~ A Joy Warrior's Journey
“Thank you” seems so small a phrase, wholly inadequate
in the face of the burgeoning green of these fields and hills
spilling over now with flowers beyond counting
in hues beyond our power to name.
Still, I kneel before the pristine trillium
and can conjure no other response.
What utter mystery that such varied beauty
can rise from mere earth, and that we should be here,
in the midst of it, seeing!
All winter, as I endured the cold and dreary days,
the treacherous heaps of ice and snow, I told myself
that beneath that barren, frozen ground, flowers slept.
The mere thought of them pulled me through,
rekindling my desire for the tomorrows of spring.
It all seemed so far away, almost impossibly distant.
Did I imagine flowers slept there? No. I remembered
the feel of the moist earth as I placed the bulbs
in the little holes that I had dug for them, wishing
them sweet dreams and saying little prayers
for their well-being. And today, here they are,
their delicate beauty touching my soul, a promise
fulfilled. And my spirit rises on their fragrance,
singing with them, “Thank you! Thank you!”
Remember, remember, they whisper,
that I, too, was a star, shining for my moments
in the world, beaming my light, singing
my song. Like you, I smiled and cried,
I loved and lost, I walked alone and
with sweet companions. I toiled
at my work, I savored my leisure.
I stood in awe of the mystery of it all.
I drank both of suffering and pleasure.
I gave it everything I could give.
And I would do it all again.
I walked before you. I walk with you still.
Forget me not, dear children.
Remember me kindly.
Remember.
I was at the park this week on one of the month’s rare sunny days and happened across two little girls playing at the edge of the creek. They were putting little pieces of driftwood on the water to watch it float downstream and giggling as they sang “Row, row, row your boat, gently down the stream . . . “
I hadn’t heard that little ditty in years and soon I was humming it as I walked along. “Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily; Life is but a dream.”
It got me thinking about one of the phrases I keep in my back pocket to get me through stressful times or to reassure myself when I’m taking on a challenge. I’ve shared it with you before. Maybe you remember: “How easy can I let this be?”
Now and then I repeat it to a friend of mine who unfailingly repeats it as “How easy can I make this?” I tell him it’s not “make this,” but “let this.” There’s a difference.
Maybe my friend, an engineer, thinks that making things easy means finding an efficient way to go about whatever needs to be done. But to me, that interpretation puts the onus on you to invent an efficient way. It becomes an added thing that you have to do. I’m all for efficiency. And I suppose if I were the engineering type, “making things easy” might sound like an engaging task. I might find it lifts my spirits to look at things that way, If that’s how it sounds to you, great!
But the point of asking yourself to let the challenge before you be easy means that you’re giving yourself permission to relax into it. You’re asking yourself how much you’re willing to allow yourself to be at ease. Things are only difficult or trying for us because we frame them that way, after all. Almost anything can be done with ease if we take it one small step at a time. What’s the old saying? “Inch by inch, anything’s a cinch.”
Giving yourself permission to step into a task gently and with ease is especially helpful when what you’re facing seems unpleasant, or even repulsive or painful. Allowing yourself to let go of the tension of resistance tunes you in to your capabilities. Asking “How easy can I let this be?” turns “I don’t want to” into “I can do this.”
What’s more, it lets you glide into action with a grace that can build momentum for you, and even make the task feel rewarding and satisfying, or if you’re really lucky, fun. There you are, just rowing your boat, one stroke of the oars after another. And sooner or later, you arrive where you wanted to be. The challenge that loomed so large is behind you, now nothing more than a memory, a dream.
Let me invite you to tuck the phrase in your pocket—“How easy can I let this be?”— and to pull it out the next time you find yourself resisting a challenge. Maybe attach the tune to “Row Your Boat” to it just to give it a bit of flavor. Give it a try. You never know.
Wishing you a week of merrily bubbling streams.
Warmly,
Susan
Despite the month’s cold and rain, the daffodils have opened.
They stand atop the hill along the roadside, greeting passersby.
To me, they look like angels, their white wings spread wide,
their bright trumpets sending songs of unbridled cheer.
“We’re alive! We’re alive! And you’re alive, too!
The sun is shining; the sky is blue. The happy birds sing
from high in the tree. It’s spring, dear ones. Be glad with me.”
Looking from my morning window,
I thought at first that it had snowed.
It’s recently been that cold.
Then all at once I realized that countless
spring beauties had opened overnight.
It’s been ten days since the first ones appeared,
a sparse handful sprinkled here and there.
Now there were thousands, come, no doubt,
to celebrate. Today is Earth Day after all.
Each one’s no bigger than a dime, you know.
But they fill your heart with tender joy,
no matter how mad the rest of the world.
Now and then, when you especially need them,
love gifts you with reminders of life’s tender Yes.
Take, for instance, my discovery today—a long one,
filled with necessary tasks after a night of slight sleep.
Just as the sun was about to set, an impulse sent me
outside to drink in the evening’s light and spring air,
and then whispered to me, “Look in the hedges.”
And there it was, a robin’s nest, magnificently crafted,
cradling four perfect eggs, blue as turquoise.
Imagine the instinctual skill required to find and carry
precisely right pieces of straw, making trip after trip,
and winding them round and round to form a perfect nest,
and then to transport bits of mud to build a protective bowl
strong enough to weather the winds and keep your babies
safe and warm as you flew in bits of food, trip after trip,
until the wee ones were big and brave enough to fly.
At the sight of it, all my complaints gave way to wonder
and to a wish that I, too, might perform my necessary tasks
with the grace and skill of a little mother robin.
The Yes, whose merest spark of thought
creates worlds within spinning worlds,
whose living laughter flows endlessly
between and around and within them,
whose joy knows no bounds,
whose forces flow in our blood,
whose light sings in our souls—
that Yes—plays here, right in the midst of
this moment in Spring, and its star children
dance to the song.
Sometimes it all seems to be a beautiful painting, magically come alive.
From a frozen earth where mere days ago
only decaying leaves fluttered in the wind,
the golden daffodil rises in bold celebration,
nature’s proof of life’s eternal return.
the promise fulfilled, the Great Yes
unfolding in glory, asking of us only this:
Believe.